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    50 Cent / Lyrics

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    "High All The Time" Lyrics

    50 Cent

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    I don't need Don Perignon I don't need Cris
    Tangaray and Alize I don't need shit
    Nigga I'm high all the time I smoke that good shit
    I stay high all the time and I'm on some hood shit
    Give me some dro, purple haze and some chocolate
    Give me a dutch and a lighter I spark shit
    I stay high all the time, I smoke that good shit
    I'm high all the time and I'm on some hood shit

    (Verse 1)
    Everytime I roll up, niggas I holla roll up
    Then I tell 'em hold up
    You aint needing money u aint smoking in my benzo
    20 inch Lorenzo, smoking on indo
    High as a motherfucker, I be on the backstreets
    Niggas know I clap heat
    Homie if u got beef, man u betta holla at me
    Niggas get locked up, stabbed up, shot up
    Everytime I pop up a lot going on in my hood
    I shoot the dice and holla "get 'em girls"
    Daddy need new shoes
    Daddy need Pirellis to look mean on 22s
    Stash spots, X-Box, Lab top fax machine phone
    Bulletproof this bitch and I'm gone
    2003 Suburban swerving, too many sips of Henny
    The D said they searched the weapon they can't find the semis
    They was just harassing me cuz they knew who I was
    Spent the night in central booking for smoking some buds


    (Verse 2)
    Now if u heard now I'da started some shit
    It aint because I be high, I be high, I be high
    And if u heard I'd done let off a clip
    It aint because I be high, I be high
    But I twist that, la la la la
    I get high as I wanna nigga, go against me for sure yousa gonner nigga
    I don't smoke to calm my nerves but I got beef
    Fit to crush my enemies like I crush the ass cheeks
    If you love me tell me u love me, don't stab me man
    I hate to be in the pens for clappin one of my fans
    Now let me show u how to greet me when u meet me
    When you see me, if you real my nigga
    You know how to holla "G-UNIT"
    There's no competition, there's just me
    50 cent muthafucka I'm hot on these streets
    If David could go against goliath with a stone
    I could go at Nas and Jigga both for the throne


    (Verse 3)
    Now who u know besides me who write lines and squeeze 9s
    And have hoes in the hood sniffin on white lines
    You don't want me to be your kid's role model
    I teach 'em how to buck them 380s and load up them hollows
    Have shorty freshin for stoop, ready to shoot
    Big blunt in his mouth, duce duce in his boot
    Sit in the crib, sipping Guinness
    Watching menace then o lord
    Have a young nigga buckin shit like he old dawg
    My team they depend on me when its crunch time
    I eat a nigga food in broad day like its lunch time
    You feeling brave nigga go ahead, get gully
    See if I'ma leave your brains leaking up out your skully
    I'd done made myself hot so aint shit u can tell me
    Now niggas calling me the feature man, fuck your money
    I aint hurting I'm aight, nigga I'm doing good
    I aint got to write rhymes I got bricks in the hood

    This song was last modified on November 28th, 2016.
    Copyright with Lyrics © Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Universal Music Publishing Group.
    Written by Homer Banks, Carl Mitchell Hampton, Raymond E. Jackson, Michael J. Clervoix, Curtis James Jackson, Marshall B. III Mathers, Luis Edgardo Resto, Conrad Almonacy.
    Lyrics licensed by LyricFind.

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